lstillman's blog

what it was, was camping

 abuse

"I'm 60!"  That's my new battle cry.  Every time I hear that, I remember the Saturday Night Live skit from a few years ago when Molly Shannon performed as a super-active, hyper-energetic middle-class mom who had just turned 50.  She would do an amazing aerobic lunge, then bounce back up exclaiming, "I'm 50!", doing her best to prove that age presented no barriers to her abilities.

And just to prove that I still had it, I accepted an invitation to go camping over the weekend with some friends at Smith Mountain Lake.  With great anticipation, I dusted off my sleeping bag, air mattress, and cot, and dreamed about sitting around the campfire eating s’mores and discussing current events while the peace and tranquility of the night sky enveloped us.  We drove up on a Friday afternoon, and managed to get our campsite established with the help of a flashlight.  We had not used this particular tent before, and reading the instructions was for sissys anyway.  Thankfully, our camp master was there to bark out instructions.  He, by the way, had a tent that surely was used in “Lawrence of Arabia”, complete with cots, area rug, heater, electricity, and a radio.   He didn’t even bring a sleeping bag, but made up his cot carefully with his sheets and blanket!  We were in the presence of royalty, and we could only stand in awe at his camping prowess.  That first night really did come close to what I had anticipated.  We drank cold beers, smoked cigars, and argued endlessly about the use of cell phones, texting, and email as an intrusion on good relationships.  As for current events, I had to bring them up-to-speed on why Levi Johnston had decided to do a nude photo for Playgirl Magazine, and just how many sales Sarah Palin’s new book would generate after her appearance on Oprah.  We went to bed, tired but happy, and it was a magical night.  I did not have to get up even once, a minor miracle in itself.

The next day turned out to be overcast and misty all day long.  We still managed to take an invigorating hike around the lake, and even attempted to kayak when the sun came out for an hour.  Unfortunately, the wind came out too, making it nearly impossible to get the kayaks back to shore!  After that, we determined that we should ride our bikes through the park and call it a day.  We had gone to the trouble of bringing the darn things, so ride we did….in spite of the rain that began and never abated.  Now all but one pair of clothes that I brought was dry, and I figured I would save that for bedtime.  We enjoyed a great meal together, returned to our campsite, and tried to recreate the esprit de corps of the night before around the fire.  It was working well until it started drizzling, and we couldn’t ignore it any longer.

As the night wore on, we all wandered off to bed.  When I crawled inside my tent this time, I noticed there was water accumulating on the floor.  Fortunately, I would be dry as toast up on my cot.  I drifted off to sleep almost immediately, only to awaken to the most driving, steady, LOUD rain imaginable.  And in case you're wondering, there really isn't a lot of head room in a tent.  So the rain sounded as if it was indeed going to come through the tent and drown me.  I did not sleep for hours after that.  And, tonight of all nights, I really did have to get up.  Here's a visual for you:  try holding an umbrella with one hand while you're underneath a tree in a downpour answering nature's call.  And, you're a woman.  When I did finally crawl back into my sleeping bag, I slept fitfully and prayed for daylight....and if not sunshine, then at least the end of the rain.

Morning blessedly came.  Lawrence, our camping guru, slept like a baby in the "big house", but even he insisted we go for coffee before we broke camp.  We reluctantly returned to the campsite, and I started throwing equipment into the back of the car.  It would all have to be hung out to dry when we got home anyway.

The task complete, I met up with the rest of our group for breakfast and shared my horror stories with some of the other campers.  But all in all, we felt very zen about the experience and vowed that we really would do it again.....but not until we had carefully mapped out the weather patterns in the Western Hemisphere.

Meanwhile, back at our campsite, Lawrence was already talking about an upgrade to an Airstream Bambi—a sleek camper that has a master bedroom, shower, full kitchen, living room, and flat-screen television.  Surely now his wife, the only one of us who had the good sense to turn down the trip to Smith Mountain Lake, would join him for his next adventure into the great outdoors.

I, on the other hand, kept having visions of Molly Shannon in hiking boots and spandex jeans taking another deep dip as she exclaimed with only a little less enthusiasm than she had ten years earlier, "I'm 60!"

Me too.   Ain’t life grand???

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